Am I alive? I can feel the pricks of my fingertips gliding over my skin. I can feel the bittersweet taste of poison entering my mouth by each kiss of yours. I can feel the cold winter caressing my shoulders as your thumbs circle around them. I can feel the tickle of your lips as you whisper in my ear. I can feel these empty dreams around me. But why do I feel so numb? As if these are just tiny memories crawling on the floor? Is it clinical that we’re breaking away? Wait, no, I am not, but you are. Yet, you don’t even notice this, do you?
I held onto you loosely, and now you’re flying away, my beautiful bird.
YOU ARE READING
11:11
Randomdear stray eyelashes, ladybugs, dark tunnels, wishbones, dandelions, pennies, shooting stars, 11:11, and birthday candles, when will you do your job?
